


Moments 2: Developments

by Phynoma



Series: The In-Between [6]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Character Study, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Elves, Emotions, For Me, Gay, Gay Male Character, Grumpy elf is grumpy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Just angst, Kissing, Love, M/M, No Sex, Pillow Talk, Pre-Heist, Self-Sacrifice, Sharing a Bed, Short, Sweet, Well - Freeform, just let yourself be happy already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phynoma/pseuds/Phynoma
Summary: “Well, you’re not exactly the tragic leader I thought you were when I pledged my loyalty you in Defiance Bay,” Aloth said.“Hey,” Mirad said sleepily. “I’m plenty tragic. Not as bad as you, though.”In which there is nostalgia and a disagreement about what self-sacrifice means. Surprise, our favorite grumpy elf has low self-esteem! He's working on it.CW: mention of suicide, canonical. Not really sure how to tag this properly; sorry, folks.Adding more chapters, since this sort of falls into the "moments" drabble collections, post-"Promise-Fulfilled" and pre-"Aedyr"
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser/Male Watcher, Aloth Corfiser/The Watcher
Series: The In-Between [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980169
Kudos: 2





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> C/W: referenced suicide, in-game reference, spoilers for Pillars I and II
> 
> I play around a lot with the possibilities I *didn't* choose in Pillars, and what those alternate storylines indicate for the characters. In Aloth's case, I draw a lot of my fanfiction off of the fact that if you ever leave him alone for any length of time he goes off and gets himself killed, one way or the other. So this is the Watcher finding out that things were a bit more serious than he realized when he forgave Aloth's involvement with the Key in Pillars I, and a little bit of emotional fall-out from that. 
> 
> As a note, my Watcher blew up the Rauataian powderhouse in Pillars II on behalf of the Huana, and that haunts him so it'll come up a few times throughout the whole work
> 
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

True night had fallen over Brighthollow, a deep midwinter dark that was devoid of moonlight and only highlighted the distance of the pinprick stars. The fire was still blazing in Aloth’s room, but it had almost burnt out in Mirad’s—and of course that was where they were. Aloth had offered to stoke it, keep it going with magic, but Mirad had pouted and pulled him closer and insisted that Aloth was the only warmth he needed. In truth, the heat of the fire hadn’t left the room yet, and Aloth’s eyes were tired from reading by firelight all day, so the dark was pleasant and he acquiesced. 

Aloth was running through the tasks he needed to complete before he returned to Brighthollow again. It was a bad habit that he’d picked up; he’d spend the last few days in Mirad’s company making extensive lists, planning his time down to the minute so that he could return as soon as possible. There were always delays, always unexpected issues to resolve. Things never worked out as he had intended, and in return he wasted time with Mirad by “fretting,” as the Watcher called it. 

But he couldn’t help it, even as he laid back with his head on Mirad’s chest and the Watcher tried to distract him with anecdotes of their old adventures. 

“You remember that acting troupe in Copperlane? They’re not still there, are they?”

“A few are, ‘acting’ in the loosest sense of the word," Aloth said, only half-paying attention.

“Wait, really? They must be old now, right? Or maybe not. How old is too old for humans to act?”

Aloth frowned and gave up trying to calculate the time to travel between Mowrghek Îen and New Dyrford by foot. “Most have moved on, from what I could tell. Or they’ve succumbed to sveth addictions, most likely.”

Mirad chuckled. “You know, it’s funny. Even though I’ve seen some decent plays now, I haven’t visited Defiance Bay in…well, in years, now. They could have become real players by now, for all I know.”

“Really?” Aloth shifted so Mirad’s elbow wasn’t digging into his side. “You love the city.”

“I’ve been busy,” Mirad said, then sighed. “And, um, I guess I still feel a little responsible for burning most of it down?”

“That was hardly your fault,” Aloth clicked his tongue. “We just happened to be there at the wrong time. In fact, it was better that we _were_ there. Thaos would have made his statement no matter what, and at least we were able to identify his involvement. That may have been the only thing keeping Defiance Bay from crumbling into pure chaos. I don’t remember you lighting a single flame, though I do seem to remember you trying to stop a group of ne’er-do-wells from stoning one of those poor guards, fool that you are.”

He said it fondly. The riots in Defiance Bay still left an acrid taste in the back of his throat, like ash and smoke and panic. He had been conscious only of horror, of the realization that he had been _wrong_ , of the need to get out. 

And in the midst of fleeing, Mirad had stopped to try and pull a guard out of a crowd of furious townspeople. It was just as likely that the guard had been tormenting those people for months as it had been a random attack, but Mirad hadn’t waited for explanations or self-preservation. He probably would have stayed and been killed along with the guard if not for Edér and Kana grabbing him and dragging him bodily away. 

“Have you heard from Kana lately?” Aloth asked. 

He could hear Mirad’s smile in his voice when he replied. “Just a month ago, actually. Says he just found out from his sister that we—briefly—had possession of the Harapo epic and wanted to know if I at least managed to get a rubbing to send him.”

“Did you?”

“Of course! A few. I sent him one, and told him to come visit Brighthollow, even if it’s no longer the site of a great, mysterious titan for him to explore.”

“And his sister?”

“Ahhhh…” Mirad patted Aloth’s shoulder without seeming to realize he was doing so, “at least they don’t seem to have bonded over hating me.”

“Oh dear. Does _he_ hate you now?”

“He says he understand why I…did what I did, but he doesn’t have to like it. I told him I felt the same way. If I return to Rauatai again, I’ll have to watch my back. It’s a patriotic place, and I’m not exactly in good standing. I asked him to write a ballad for me about the poor child of Rauatai who was forced through circumstance to betray their country.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll be disappointed.” A thought struck Aloth. “Is your family safe?”

“I saw them once, before I returned here,” Mirad said. “Gave them a bit of a heads-up. Thought they could move someplace a little out of the way. But you met the Huana…Rauatai isn’t the same, of course, but outside of the military the people still like social order, the same way the Huana do. Maybe it’s an aumaua thing, maybe it’s just living near the Deadfire, I don’t know.”

He sighed. “In any case, they like structure and easily understood expectations. My family is already odd, being elven. But they have a community, they’ve been there for generations of aumaua, they’re—maybe not understood, exactly, but they’re part of the landscape. If they moved, they’d have to rebuild that trust. So they won’t. But I warned them.”

Mirad drifted into silence. Aloth knew about the politics of trust and family, though perhaps in the opposite way of Mirad. He had wondered about what an elven family was doing in Rauatai, but in Mirad’s stories they weren’t portrayed as outcasts. It was the first he had ever heard Mirad suggest his family was unconventional by Rautaian standards. Gods knew they were unconventional in enough other ways. He hadn’t even known elves could have more than three children in their lifetimes, let alone _six_. 

Mirad was stroking his hand over Aloth’s hair. Aloth hadn’t decided if it was annoying enough to tell him to stop, so let him continue.

“Do you ever think about the likelihood of us meeting?” Aloth asked eventually. “An elven, Rauataian thief and a half-trained arcane knight from the Cythwod?”

Mirad was drowsing. “Not a thief,” he mumbled.

“A…procurer of fine goods. Without permission.”

Aloth felt the vibration of Mirad’s chuckle through his skull. Mirad was still petting his head, slower than before. 

“Well, you’re not exactly the tragic leader I thought you were when I pledged my loyalty you in Defiance Bay,” Aloth continued dryly.

“Hey,” Mirad said sleepily. “I’m plenty tragic. Not as bad as you, though.” He kissed Aloth’s temple and snuggled closer. “You never told me what you would have done.”

“Done if what?”

“Ya know. If I’d—” he yawned, huge and unselfconscious, “—if I’d said no to you staying with me.”

“Oh?” Aloth thought for a minute, put himself back into the smoke and the distant screams, saw himself dragging Mirad to a stop before they could cross the final bridge out of the city and holding his final secret out like an offering of betrayal. If Mirad had rejected his apology and his service, if he hadn’t grabbed Aloth’s hand and pulled him along with him… 

“I suppose…I would have made my way to Eir Glanfath, eventually. And if I didn’t meet up with you there, or if things hadn’t changed…” Alone and having betrayed everyone he’d ever loved, what would he have done? Had he been so confident in Mirad’s forgiveness that he hadn’t made a contingency plan? 

But no; he remembered, suddenly, and scoffed quietly to himself. “Well, I would have done what any good Leaden Key Initiate would have done and turned on one of those machines.”

Mirad’s hand froze on his head.

“What?” he asked after a beat.

Aloth laughed quietly. “Oh, almost certainly. In fact, I might have done that even if we had met again. Made my life worth one _single_ thing, you know.” He made an elegant, flippant gesture. 

Mirad sat straight up, knocking Aloth out of his lap. 

“You would have…but you wouldn’t _now_ , right?” Mirad asked, voice suddenly cold. 

Aloth shrugged, unsettled by the change in tone. “Well, of course I wouldn’t _now_. I’m not exactly interested in feeding the construct of Woedica my soul.”

“I should hope not,” Mirad snarled. Aloth pulled away.

“Addie,” he placated, “I know we don’t agree about the direction of the Key, but I’m not about to betray your trust like that again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s—forget the fucking Key, forget Woedica, forget Thaos,” Mirad snapped. Aloth blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust, but it too dark, and he couldn’t make out Mirad’s expression. “This isn’t about anyone else. It’s not about _me_.”

“ _Rans ot quera_ ,” Aloth said, and light bloomed over his hand. He lifted the globe, let it hang over their heads. When he met Mirad’s gaze again, he flinched. 

“What _is_ this about, Mirad?” he asked, alarmed. “Why are you so upset?”

“Why am I—” Mirad pulled at his hair with both hands, exasperation and anger melded on his face. “Why would I _not_ be?”

Aloth curled back. He wanted to draw his legs into himself, to go back to his room, to leave Mirad alone to work out whatever was twisting his face into a monstrous version of his normal, cheerful self. 

“It was so long ago,” Aloth protested weakly. He hated how pathetic he sounded, hated that he was reacting like a spurned child. “Mirad, I _am_ sorry. I thought—” and now it was bitterness, hurt and confusion bringing up bile, burning him, and he clutched at his throat “—I thought I had proved myself to you since then.”

“What did I _just_ —do you _hear_ yourself?” Mirad leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders, but Aloth jerked away. He didn’t like being grabbed, and Mirad had that odd, fae glint in his eye like he did when he was truly furious about something. 

Mirad made a choked sound, hands clenching on nothing. “Aloth, you can’t just tell me you were going to…to commit suicide and then expect me to not be upset. I’m sorry, but—how could you ask me that, why I’m _upset_? You think I wouldn’t _care_ about something like that?”

“Wait, no,” Aloth stammered. His mind went still. Mirad didn’t understand. It hadn’t been about killing himself, it had been about making a difference for once in his gods-cursed life. He tried to explain, but the words stumbled out of his mouth. “Watcher, it wasn’t…I wasn’t…it wasn’t suicide, it was…”

“What the _hel_ else do you call giving yourself to one of those…you would have been turned to ash, your soul would have been _gone,_ I wouldn’t have been able to…” Mirad made the choked sound again, threw up his hands with a frustrated growl. 

Aloth was completely blindsided. Mirad was never this angry. And surely he could see it wouldn’t have been suicide, it would have been—

“Sacrifice,” he said, grabbing at Mirad’s hand, almost pleading with him to understand. “It would have been sacrifice, Mirad. To something greater than myself. You know about that, right? And I don’t know, maybe I would have done something else! And it doesn’t matter, it _doesn’t matter_ because I am here, with you, and everything is _fine._ ”

Mirad grasped at his hands, shuffled up to him. He ran his hands up Aloth’s arms, touched his face, pushed his hands back through his hair with an fervor that made Aloth uncomfortable. 

“Addie,” he said again with a nervous laugh.

Mirad crushed him against his chest, and Aloth had to scramble and twist to get his legs underneath him. Even so, it was not a position that Aloth wanted to hold for any length of time. 

“I didn’t know. Forgive me,” Mirad said into his ear. His voice was thick. A moment later, Aloth felt something hot and wet splash down his earlobe and Mirad’s arms tightened around him. 

That was too much. Aloth rolled his eyes and extracted himself from Mirad’s arms with difficulty. He gave a huff of exasperation as he sat back on his knees and looked Mirad in the face, saw the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Oh, stop,” he said. “Why should _you_ regret anything? And it’s not as if I would have been any great loss back then,” he chuckled cynically, but Mirad didn’t seem to find it amusing. “Oh come on, Watcher. You and I both know that.”

“You have no idea, do you,” Mirad stared at him, voice still dangerously thick. “You have no idea how important you are.”

Aloth sighed, patted Mirad’s leg.

“My dear,” he said carefully, “there are important kith in this world, and then there are _important_ kith. You belong to the latter. Perhaps I do as well, now that I am Grandmaster. We have eye of the gods, such that they are, and we have the ability to make changes that will effect just about everything. But do not mistake the simple importance of one kith to another to the some greater meaning. I might have meant something to you fifteen years ago, but in my absence you would have gone on to be just as meaningful to the world. Even if you had been a little sad for the friend you had once had—”

“A little sad,” Mirad repeated, disbelieving, and then his eyes flashed and his voice rose. “A _little sad_ , Corfiser?”

But Aloth was tired, and this conversation had taken an unexpected turn, and his chest was starting to hurt and whatever path Mirad had sent his mind down, he wasn’t interested in following it this evening. 

“Yes,” he snapped back, own ire rising. “Do you know what it is, Watcher, to be caught within your pull? To be a part of things, incredible, world-changing things with you, to know that my own part is so meaningless? If I can help you, I will, and I do. But I never mistake myself for what I am, and what I am _not_. You are always the epicenter of something so much greater than anything else, and I will _never_ be able to provide you with anything so great as you that which you grant those around you. It’s like...throwing a torch at a forest fire. So _yes_ ; were I to disappear tomorrow, you would be sad, perhaps even devastated, but you would still be the Watcher and you would continue on just as you always have done.”

Mirad gaped at him. “You…you’re an idiot.”

Aloth just stared back wearily. It had been more than he’d meant to say, and it still hadn’t been enough. “Never mind.”

“But you wouldn’t. Disappear tomorrow,” Mirad said. Still rough, still angry. 

Aloth sighed. He just wanted to go to bed. “No, of course not.”

Mirad was still waiting for something. Aloth could feel it, like a storm gathering around him. To his surprise, when Mirad spoke again his voice was gentle, if a little raw. 

“Do you still ever think about it? Finding a machine? Doing something…important?”

Aloth rubbed at his arms. He had, for a while. It had been at the back of his mind, a possibility if all else failed. It had nearly gone away by the time he re-met Mirad in the Deadfire, and had vanished entirely after that. He hadn’t thought about it for years, until Mirad had asked the question that had started this inane conversation. 

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t. I’m doing important enough work, now.”

“But if you stopped,” Mirad insisted, leaning forward slightly. “If…if you weren’t the Grandmaster anymore.”“I’m not going to give it up, Mirad,” Aloth warned, and Mirad shook his head.

“That’s not what I’m saying. But if other circumstances arose, and there wasn’t a _need_ for a Grandmaster, or you accomplished what you meant to do…”

Aloth gave him a wry smile. “That is a task for more than one lifetime, I’m afraid,” he said. “So you don’t have to be concerned on that score.”

Mirad raked his hand through his hair. “You’re impossible,” he said in a muted growl. “Promise me you won’t ever do something like that. Please, Aloth. Just…whatever happens.”

Aloth narrowed his eyes at him. “Is that what this is about? Is something going to happen?”

Mirad let out an impatient whine. “Aloth.”

“Yes, alright,” Aloth assented, annoyed. “I won’t go off into obvious death-traps without warning you first. Is that sufficient?”

“I suppose,” Mirad said. 

“Can we go to sleep now?” 

Mirad leaned forward slowly. The sound of the sheets rustling and the bed creaking was loud in the absence of heated speech. Mirad kissed him, a gentle press of lips without any other requirement. After a few seconds, Aloth felt his frustration easing and he kissed Mirad back, just as slowly. He was grateful when Mirad didn’t wrap his arms around him, just touched his shoulder, his arms, his neck. Anything more constraining and Aloth would have left. 

It still took a while to settle his mind enough to sleep. Thankfully, Iselmyr didn’t emerge to heckle him about what he should have said. It might have _almost_ been nice to get a second opinion—but he was careful not to think that too loudly, in case she actually responded. 

It took a long time before he heard Mirad’s breathing slow behind him. Aloth's neck felt stiff, and he felt too hot and too cold all at once. He thought about going back to his room after all; thought of the warm firelight and the uncomfortable memories it held; and then settled on putting a little more space between them than usual. It helped. He breathed into the colder space in the bed, wrapped himself in almost-solitude, and fell asleep wondering why foolhardy, self-sacrificing Mirad thought they were any different from each other. 


	2. Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble for character description for my dear, accident-prone rogue Watcher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short and complete fluff. I wrote this for no other reason than to get a description of Mirad down on paper, since he's not the "stare into the mirror and describe himself" type. Maybe one day I'll write out the why and how of what he's stealing from Llengrath, but _today is not that day._

“A dangerous criminal you say, hm?” the innkeeper asked, squinting at the two hooded elves.

“Oh yes,” Mirad nodded, leaning forward over the counter. “Should be apprehended in all possible haste. A real enemy to the order of the realm, that one.”

“Alright,” the innkeeper sighed, pulling out a grocery list on a worn sheet of parchment and flipping it over, only to find that the back was also covered in scribbles. He grumbled to himself as he found a mostly empty corner and readied his quill. “What’s the description?”

“Wood elf,” Mirad began confidently. “Brown hair, brown eyes. Um, normal height. Good-looking.” He winked at Aloth and received a kick in the shin for his trouble.

“Well, great,” the innkeeper said with false cheer, crossing his arms over his stained apron. “That only describes _every wood elf from here to the Cythwood_.”

“Oh, right.” Mirad scratched his head under his hood, a little flustered. “Didn’t think of that.”

“Look, I know you elves can tell each other apart,” the innkeeper said, scowling and jabbing at the parchment with his quill, “but us folk need a little more to go on. Any, ya know, distinguishing characteristics?”

Mirad started to say something righteous and indignant but caught himself. If an innkeeper in the middle of the village was bold enough to be a racist prick, that didn’t bode well for the rest countryside, and Mirad wasn’t trying to start a witch hunt. Distinguishing. Okay. Should be easy. He could describe himself.

“Um,” he said, and then glanced desperately at Aloth. The wizard stepped up, sighing.

“Dark-tan skin,” he said. “Olive tones, I'd suppose you'd say. Hair is deep brown, some gold. Eyes are a sort of dark amber. About—” he glanced over at Mirad, a brief calculation—“five-nine, slender but not thin. Favors his right leg. Piercings in both ears, dresses like a Old Vailian pirate.” He almost rolled his eyes, then caught a glimpse of Mirad staring at him in amazement from under his hood and flushed slightly instead. “Ahem. Facial scars—”

“How many?” the innkeeper didn’t look up from scribbling things down. Aloth hesitated, blinking.

“Thirteen,” Mirad supplied.

“Thirteen,” the innkeeper repeated, tongue between his teeth.

“No wait—fourteen.” Mirad grinned. “Forgot about the fampyr bite, that one’s recent.”

“How could you forget about that?” Aloth asked in an undertone.

“It’s right on top of the one from falling off that gate at the Booridge House, which was honestly more exciting—”

The innkeeper cleared his throat, interrupting their muttered conversation. “Anything particularly noticeable? Don’t want every scarred up elf paraded in here from a fifty mile radius.”

“Three across his nose,” Aloth described, back to business.

“Stelgaer,” Mirad explained helpfully.

“Nose is broken at least once.”

“At least twice.”

“Scars across his right eyebrow and extending past his eye, an x on his left cheek, two on his chin, another across his mouth. The last makes his mouth crooked when he smiles. Or…or makes any expression, I daresay,” Aloth added hurriedly when Mirad winked at him again. “Ah, those are the most noticeable.”

“And you want proof of this fellow’s death?”

“Ahh, capture would be preferred,” Mirad suggested. “Unharmed. Would be. You know. Best.”

“If this elf is as dangerous as you suggest…” the innkeeper began.

“Oh, did we say dangerous? I mean, yes. But mostly to the unsuspecting heart,” Mirad cut in with a flourish over his chest, then grunted as Aloth elbowed him in the ribs.

“What my companion is trying to say is that this kith is wanted for crimes of a more genteel nature,” he said. “We are willing to offer a substantial reward if he is apprehended _unharmed_ , and brought to the local jail. Is that clear?”

“Certainly,” the innkeeper snorted. “But you’d get him a lot quicker if you let the cutthroats about town go to work in their own way.”

“I’m sure the upright citizens of your fair city will do just fine,” Aloth said, and dropped a few gold on the counter. “For your time.”

And he pulled Mirad out by his hood.

“Well, that went well enough,” Mirad declared cheerfully. “Now I just have to loiter around the inns this evening and wait to be caught."

“This has to be the worst idea for an alibi I’ve ever heard,” Aloth grumbled. Mirad patted his hand. 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure my ‘amber eyes’ will fare well enough in the county jail.”

Aloth glared at him. “I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about my pocketbook.” 

Mirad shrugged. “I’ll make it up to you after I break in to Llengrath’s tower.”

“She’s not going to fall for this, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Mirad said. “I don’t need to convince _her_. Just the local authorities.”

“Are you aiming for another scar?"

“Absolutely.”


End file.
